Face Your Demons
by Scheherazade's Daughter
Summary: "It's easy to judge mental illness if you've never had to deal with it yourself." An alternate way Casey's and Olivia's conversation at the end of Influence could have gone, from Casey's POV. TW for brief mention of suicide.


"It's easy to judge mental illness if you've never had to deal with it yourself."

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own Law and Order: SVU, Casey Novak, or Olivia Benson. I am not making any money off this piece.  
**Author's note**: This is an alternate ending for _Influence_. I originally thought Casey's comment earlier in the episode referred to herself, and was disappointed to learn it referred to her ex-fiancée. I've always wanted to see a character in a movie or TV series that had a mental illness, but still lived a normal life, so I wrote this piece as another way the episode could have ended. I'm new to this whole fan fiction thing, and would appreciate some feedback.

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I sat behind my desk, picking at a speck of dirt stuck under my right index fingernail. Really I was just looking for an excuse to avoid the post-trial paperwork on Jamie Hoskins's case. When I'd first heard about the circumstances that had lead a sixteen-year-old girl to run over seven pedestrians with her parents' car, I'd considered recusing myself and handing the trial over to another ADA. It wouldn't have been too hard. There was nothing about the case that was technically related to sex crimes. SVU had only caught it because they'd dealt with Jamie before.

But I'd stayed on, done my job, and won the case. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. At least the judge had sentenced her as a juvenile and given her time in a psychiatric treatment center instead of a prison. She'd get the help she needed, I reasoned, finally dislodging the dirt from under my fingernail.

A tap on my office door made me look up. It was Olivia, peering in through the blinds. She opened the door a crack and slipped in, closing it behind her. One look at her face and I knew what this conversation was going to be about. It was the face she wore when she was trying to get victims to talk to her, the kind, compassionate, non-judgmental, I'm-here-to-listen expression.

"Tough case," she said, her voice quiet and soothing.

"Yeah," I said with a forced smile. I really didn't want to have this conversation.

And yet, when Olivia moved towards my desk and sat down in the chair across from me, I made no move to stop her. She paused a minute before saying,

"I mean for you."

It was that damn face. Now that I was on the receiving end of it, I understood why victims opened up to her so quickly.

I took a deep, shaky breath. "I-I guess it opened up some old wounds," I admitted. "I, um, I have cyclothymic disorder. It's in the same vein as bipolar disorder, but the mood swings aren't as dramatic."

_Go on,_ the face said.

"I'd been having symptoms my whole life, and it only got worse as I got older. But my parents refused to have me diagnosed or anything. No meds, no therapy … they just didn't believe in modern psychiatry, like Derek Lord. Then I tried to kill myself at the ripe old age of twelve." I folded back the sleeve of my blouse and laid my hand on the table, palm up. Time and vitamin E cream had made them almost invisible, but if you looked closely, you could still see two parallel white lines running diagonally across my wrist. Fifteen years ago, the scars had been deep, gaping wounds, blood pouring out of them fast, so fast … I shuddered at the memory.

Olivia gently picked up my wrist and ran her thumb across the scars. Her hand was warm, her touch gentle. Some of the tension eased from my shoulders. Without letting go, she asked, "Did you get help then?"

"Yeah. Seventy-two hour psych hold. Weird as it sounds, it was the best thing that ever happened to me. I finally got diagnosed—which was quite a relief, let me tell you—and the resident psychiatrist kicked some sense into my parents, who finally got me into therapy and on mood stabilizers. I've had some setbacks, but all in all I've been on the mend ever since."

_Good job. Thank you for telling me,_ said the face.

"You're very brave," Olivia told me. "Taking this case when you could have passed it to another ADA. Why'd you do it?"

I shrugged. Truth be told, I didn't really know myself. "I guess sometimes you just have to face your demons."


End file.
